Straight Into Your Arms
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: What if, in A Tangled Webb Part 1, Harm had arrived just a little bit later than what we've seen on the show?
1. Part I

**Straight Into Your Arms**

**Disclaimer: **JAG and its characters are the property of Bellisarius Productions. I'm just borrowing them for my, and hopefully other people's entertainment. No monetary gain is made from this endeavor.

What if Harm had arrived, in "A Tangled Webb" Part One, just a little bit later than what we have seen on the show?

**AN:** This story was written for Pixie's 'What If' ficathon; my thanks go out to Dea for providing this great prompt!

Warmest thanks go out my wonderful 'research assistant' Staz, who answered countless questions – repeatedly – and did her best to find out exactly what I needed to know to make this story stick.

**o o o o o o **

_**Straight Into Your Arms**_

Everything happened as if in slow motion. As if someone had pressed a button on a distant remote and now every one of his motions was jerky, every sensory information delayed. And yet later, he would remember nothing about these minutes. Nothing until her scream pierced the air. And he knew that he was too late.

Harm was operating on auto-pilot; set to 'mission-mode'. His legs, his arms, they simply followed the subconscious, deeply engrained orders of his brain. After hearing the shots fired, Gunny and he had made their entrance. Killed a few of the terrorists. Appropriated their weapons. Then had split up, Gunny running toward the main house, Harm around back, searching for Webb and Mac, oblivious to where they might find them. Or even if.

He ran. Took cover. Fired shots. Ran some more. Ever closer toward what looked like an old shed.

That was when her scream reverberated through the air. Harm knew immediately that it was Mac's voice. And yet he had never heard her like this before. Fear shot right through his heart and plummeted into his stomach. Then all was quiet. Above the deafening bellowing of machine gun fire, Harm was aware only of the silence of her voice. He was too late.

When he reached the shed, he forcefully swung open the door, trying to make use of the surprise moment as much as possible.

Everything hit him all at once: The nauseating stench of burnt flesh. The sickeningly sweet tang of blood. The stale, chokingly hot air. The arduous scramble of the terrorist, trying to reach his gun. And peripherally, of having found her.

High on adrenaline, his arm shot up, firing two holes into the chest of that bastard who had done this to her. Watched with detached satisfaction as he crumbled to the ground, blood gushing out of his wounds. Then surveyed his surroundings until he was certain they were the only ones left in the shed. And only then could he focus on her. His gut knotted, and cold fear crept through every part of him as he had never felt before. Oh God, he was too late. She was dead.

Mac was stretched out on a rickety wooden table, her arms and legs shackled to it with rusty metal cuffs. Her hands dangled lifelessly over the sides of the table. There was no movement detectable, nothing at all.

For a second, he was afraid of approaching closer. If he didn't, then maybe it wouldn't be true.

And then he was by her side within the next heartbeat. Fearful and shaky, yet desperately wishing, hoping, calling on higher powers. Please, please, please let her be alright. She couldn't be dead!

Harm's fingers were shaking when he reached out to her neck. And then his knees buckled and a bout of nausea washed over him. There it was, under his fingertips, weak but regular. Her pulse. He laid his other hand on her chest and brought his face close to hers, to feel rather than see her breathing. Thins wisps of moist air hit his cheek, and there was a barely detectable up and down movement of her chest. The relief he felt was so overwhelming that tears welled up in his eyes.

"Mac," he called out to rouse her. First softly, then with growing volume, "Mac!" Yet it was to no avail. She remained unconscious, her body knocked out by whatever atrocities had been done to her. Scanning her form, he noticed with relief that at least, her clothing was still intact; even the fake pregnancy belly was still strapped onto her. Her face was scraped and chapped, a bruise shone on her right cheek in an angry red. There was blood splattered over the front of her shirt, but it didn't seem to have come from her.

Quickly, he plied open the metal cuffs, then carefully scooped Mac up, one arm under her knees, the other under her arms that dangled down heavily. Her head lolled against shoulder. Standing in the middle of that torture shack, he remained immovable for long moments, just holding her close. Feeling that ultimate sign of life, her soft breath, fan against his neck. Her body in his arms, fragile and small where there usually was strength and power.

Gradually, he became aware of the eerie silence that had taken over the compound. No more yelling and shouting, no more gun salvos rupturing the stillness of the air. He realized that they might just be the only two people still alive. He had to get them out of there.

_TBC_


	2. Part II

**Part II**

**AN: **Wow, thank you so much for the many reviews! I really need some cheering up these days, so keep it up:-)  
Seriously, I hope you will enjoy how the story unfolds from here on out. On we go...

**o o o o o o**

He had been driving for some time when she finally stirred, a faint moan the first indication that she might regain consciousness. Harm immediately pulled over to the side of the road, forcing a few deep breaths down his lungs to calm his racing heart. He had been extremely tense during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel so strongly that his knuckles turned white.

He could only guess at this point what might have happened to Mac. Based on the 'equipment' he'd seen in that shed, he figured they had used a car battery to torture her with jolts of electricity, the shock of which had thrown her system totally out of balance and rendering her unconscious. He didn't have a clue how she might feel when she woke up, or even if she woke up again. Never before had he felt so helpless; the only thing he could do for her was trying to get her to a hospital as fast as possible, all the while fearing that she might still die, here in this car, in the middle of nowhere, with him.

The urge to be as close as possible for whatever was going on with her was so strong that he scooped her up again, lifting her from the passenger seat and onto his lap, cradling her close. Waiting, hoping for her to come back to him.

She moaned again, stirring in his arms, almost imperceptibly nestling her head closer to his neck. As if she subconsciously realized that she was finally safe. Harm stroked his hand up and down her back in soothing, calming caresses when he felt her body trembling in his embrace. He watched her face closely as her eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times.

"You… came," she whispered, and his heart warmed. It wasn't a question; it was a simple statement laced with wonder and complete trust. She closed her eyes again and leaned her forehead against his neck, and he held her tighter.

"How are you feeling, are you in pain?" One of her arms was lightly wrapped around his waist, and he could feel the tremors of her muscles twitching and shaking.

"Yes," was all she answered.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere." He immediately loosened his hold on her, but she whimpered in response. Taking this as disapproval, he once more snugly wrapped his arms around her, and he felt her body relax and sag against his.

"Everything feels so…," she whispered against his neck, "…weak."

For a while, silence prevailed, and he thought Mac had gone to sleep, when she suddenly spoke up again.

"What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"I went with Sadiq. He executed…," her voice caught in her throat, "these two missionaries…" Harm remembered having seen two people lying face-down on the ground, each with a bullet hole in the back of their heads. Oh God, and that bastard had done this right in front of her eyes.

"He pushed me toward another building… like a shed or something. The next thing I know is being here in your arms." She looked questioningly up at him.

"I think they shocked you with a car battery. I found you unconscious…" He gulped down the memories of these first moments when he had believed her to be dead. "It probably caused you to lose your memory." Plus her obvious weakness, the tremors of all her extremities, and her long bout of unconsciousness, but he didn't need to add that as she was well aware of the effects on her body.

"I went instead of…" Suddenly she lifted her head, her eyes darting around the interior of the car, then fear and pain welled up in her eyes. "Clay?" She asked, her voice teary and meek.

"He was still alive last I saw him," he reassured her quickly, stroking her hair off her sweaty forehead. "I'll be honest, he seemed in pretty bad condition, but I think he's going to make it." He thought back to how Gunny had half-carried, half-dragged a bloody, beaten and limp Webb out of the building and heaved him into the passenger seat of the Jeep. The look of absolute terror in Webb's eyes when he noticed Harm with a limp Mac in his arms, until Harm reassured him that she wasn't dead – yet.

They had decided to split up, Gunny and Webb in one car, he and Mac in another. Four Americans together, two of which looking less than stellar, screamed a little too obvious.

"Gunny is taking him to a hospital." Comforted, she leaned her head back against his shoulder, breathing deeply. "And I'm taking you." She immediately tensed up upon hearing his words, shaking her head as forcefully as she could.

"No, no hospital, please," she sobbed.

"Mac, we need to be reasonable. We don't know what's going on with you after what you went through, or what might still happen. You need to see a doctor." Yet she continued to shake her head, and he felt her meekly grip his waist, her hands shaking.

"Please, Harm," she whimpered, "no hospital. Don't trust anybody…" Exhausted, she stopped moving, and whispered against his collar bone. "Only you."

Against his better judgment, Harm couldn't deny her desperate request. Not when she was like this. 'Oh Baby', he thought, but what he said instead was, "Okay, you win, for now." She sighed in relief. "But the minute you're getting worse…!" He didn't need to finish the sentence though. She nodded, the top of her head tickling his chin with her hair, while her hand rested on his waist and his arms were holding her close.

They remained like this for a long time, until her breathing evened out and Harm was sure that she had fallen asleep. Only then did he relinquish his hold on her, and carefully placed her back into the passenger seat. Mac continued to sleep while Harm drove them toward the hotel in Ciudad del Este.

_TBC_

_**AN:**__ It was rather difficult to find exact information on what would happen to the body when it's been tortured in the way I've implied, so what Mac goes through in this story is, to the best of our knowledge, very likely. If the medically savvy among you cringe when reading this, please chalk all mistakes up to writer's privilege._


	3. Part III

**o o o o o o **

Mac awoke to several sensations at once. The room was cast in dim light, the outside sunlight barely filtering through the closed curtains. She blinked her surroundings into focus while she tried to get her bearings. She was lying on a soft mattress, surrounded by mountains of pillows and covered with several blankets. She was sweating profusely, but when she tried to lift the blankets off herself, she found that she couldn't even raise her arms; despite the directions her brain tried to give, they remained limply at her sides. She was hurting all over, and parts of her skin seemed to burn like fire, but she couldn't locate the pain. It was just everywhere at once.

And she was alone. She was sweaty, needed those blankets to come off; weak and in pain, and suddenly she felt like crying. Had it been just a dream that Harm had come to rescue her? If it was, then how did she get here? And if it wasn't, then where was he? A sob spilled forth that she couldn't keep in, and she closed her eyes while the tears spilled out from under her lashes.

Suddenly her tears were wiped off her cheeks, and without having to open her eyes, she knew that it was Harm. His thumbs moved over her cheekbones, wiping along just below her eyes, just like he always did when she was crying and they were on good terms with each other. His touches were so soft and tender that more emotion bubbled up inside of her, and she sobbed even harder.

"Oh Mac," he whispered, and suddenly she found herself in his arms again, pulled onto his lap with his arms around her. She buried her face in his shirt and sobbed and cried and wept.

"It's okay, Baby," Harm muttered close to her ear, "let it all out," while he ran his fingers over her hair and down her back. "It'll be alright…"

She hated being so weak and wimpy, but she couldn't really make herself care. It just wouldn't stay in any longer. The fear, the pain, the anxiety, the dread of the last weeks caught up with her, steamrolled over her and only left behind her deflated shell.

When the sobs finally subsided after a long while, she felt utterly drained and exhausted. But also a tiny bit better inside. The clamp that seemed to have been wrapped around her heart for weeks had at long last loosened, allowing her to feel again.

"Better?" Harm wondered, his voice a warm whisper that floated through the semi-dark room and washed straight through her, flashing her with heat. Awareness caught up with her all at once – she was still achy all over, couldn't move; flushed and sweaty, dirty and disgusting.

"I feel so…" She tried to formulate something coherent, but there was just too much at once. "Yucky."

To her surprise, laughter rumbled through his chest; she could feel it even before she could hear it. "Yucky?" He echoed with mirth.

"Yeah, you know, icky." He was still chuckling. "I'm sweaty, and dirty, and I probably smell." He didn't refute that. "A lot." She smiled into his chest. "I think I should take a bath."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Mac. Your burns would hurt like hell."

"Burns?"

Instead of answering, he pulled up one of her sleeves, and now she could finally locate the burning sensation on her skin. Her forearm sported a round, angry red mark, a few blisters having already formed. Now that she was aware, they hurt even more. She gasped, staring at her arm. "How many of those do I have?"

"I don't know yet. I only noticed the one on your arm when I carried you up here." Her eyes flew up to his.

"So this is how I got here," she stated.

"Well, I didn't want to wake you up, and I don't think you could have walked on your own anyway." Which was more than likely, she thought, being as how she couldn't even manage to wrap her arms around Harm's waist for they remained limp, refusing any orders given by her brain.

"Your pregnancy suit came in handy again; I just told people you fell ill. But when I tried to pick you up, I jostled your arm by accident. You flinched in your sleep, so I checked and found the burn mark on your arm." She just nodded; it's what happens when electricity hits the skin – it burns it.

"I had to wrap you in a blanket though," he continued, "so nobody would see the blood on your shirt." Her eyes fell downward immediately, looking at her front, and she gasped.

"Clay's blood," she whispered. Her eyes clouded over, reliving the horrors of the past days, and suddenly she wanted it all to go away. No more blood; she wanted to get rid of it. This shirt had to come off! She tried to grasp the hem but her arm just wouldn't move. "Off," she whimpered fearfully, "it needs to come off." Her eyes darted through the room in terror.

Harm's heart broke for all she had to endure and would have to relive over and over again.

"Shhh," he soothed her, taking a hold of her face with both his hands, imploring her to look at him. "It's over; you're safe now," he continued when her eyes finally met his, "I'll take it off for you, okay?" She nodded then, and he could feel her whole body deflate and go limp. He guided her to lay back down on the bed, then swiped her hair off her sweaty face. "We have to clean your wounds anyway."

He left her side to get a washbowl filled with warm water and a washcloth, as well as the supplies he had gone to get earlier at the hotel pharmacy, a couple of bandages and iodine cream for the burns, then sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without thinking much, he first made quick work of her shirt that she was so adamant to get off. It was rather bizarre, working it over the padding of her pregnancy suit, and then he lifted her up slightly to pull the shirt over her head and off her arms. Immediately, he noticed that there was a burn mark of approximately the same size on each of her arms that started forming watery blisters. Next he pulled off her jeans and found a few more burns scattered over her legs, luckily not quite as big. Then he glanced at her, lying in front of him in that padded suit.

Mac didn't know what she was feeling any longer. It seemed her emotions were all over the place; one minute she was weepy, the next in terror, and now she was a little warm and flushed, and felt like laughing. His look directed at her fake pregnant belly was just priceless.

"You know, of all the moments I imagined you undressing me, I'd never thought it'd be like this," she winked at him.

For a moment, Harm was speechless. She just admitted that she had thought of him undressing her; it felt like all his dreams were coming true, and more. Now was not the time though. He chose to adapt to her teasing tone instead, before things would turn truly awkward.

"It certainly is a challenge," he chuckled, poking his index finger into the soft padding. "Now how does it come off?"

"The straps are on the back," Mac informed, and Harm carefully turned her to her side to unsnap the suit.

"I should warn you though," she mumbled into her pillow, "I'm not wearing anything underneath." Just as quickly, she found herself on her back again, the suit still closed, Harm staring at her. His look said it all.

"Harm, it's okay," she whispered, holding onto his eyes with hers, "I trust you. Implicitly."

She nodded softly, and Harm took a deep breath, then turned her over to her side once more. Carefully, he unsnapped the suit and then took it off, laying her onto her back again in the process.

He turned to grab the moist washcloth, then began cleaning her. Looking only at her face, he swiped the cloth over her forehead, her cheeks, her ears, her chin, while he took care to only dab over the chaps and scratches.

He rinsed the cloth, then continued down her neck and over her shoulders. He worked in absolute concentration, giving attention only to the parts of skin he was washing, ever so careful not to hurt her in the process.

She was sure that peripherally, he was well aware of her nakedness, yet he was adamant not to look; not that she cared much at this point, but she loved him for it nevertheless. Mac thought she was going to melt; she still didn't feel well yet his wonderful attentiveness made everything more bearable. Nobody had ever been so tender and thoughtful with her.

Her arms were next. He washed first one, then the other. She couldn't help but wince when he reached the burnt skin, even though he barely touched it, so careful was his dabbing. Next, he applied some rusty-colored cream to one of the burns. "Iodine ointment," he explained at her questioning look, then wrapped a bandage around it, before he treated her other arm the same way.

Taking a deep breath, Harm picked up the washcloth again, not quite sure he was ready for what came next. Her complete and utter trust in him was humbling, yet he had never been this close to her and it scrambled his mind. He told himself to get a grip, and began washing her torso. He swirled the washcloth across her collarbones, then over her breasts, down her sides, and to her stomach. She was watching his every move intensely, and Harm felt his face flush. With utter relief he noted that at least she was wearing panties, and then he turned her onto her side once more to clean her back.

Mac was getting really tired again. She wanted to stay awake, wanted to watch as Harm worked, who had now reached her legs, but she felt like she was floating and it seemed impossible to keep her eyes open. She felt heavy and limp, and very exhausted, physically and emotionally. She tried, but couldn't stop her eyes from slowly falling close.

By the time Harm had reached her feet and had tended to the smaller burns on her legs, Mac was fast asleep. She didn't even wake up when he worked one of his t-shirts over her head and arms. He covered her with a blanket, then went to the bathroom himself, before settling on the other side of the bed, his back against the headboard, to watch her sleep.

_TBC_


	4. Part IV

**AN:** My apologies for not updating faster - I unexpectedly found myself without internet for the last couple of day, so even though the story was finished, I couldn't get it updated. This is the final part; I hope you will like it! Please enjoy!

**o o o o o o**

Harm awoke the next morning with Mac draped across his body. One of her legs had found its way between his, and her head was lying on his chest, with one hand resting on his stomach. Gloomy early morning light was filtering through the blinds, illuminating her face with bluish shadows and tints.

She was so beautiful; it seemed as if he had 'forgotten' about it for a long time, and now he couldn't understand how he had ever allowed that to happen. Never again, he swore to himself, subconsciously pulling her closer. He had come entirely too close to losing her forever. His breath hitched in his throat as he remembered his awful dreams, and then having found them to almost having come true.

Her whispered, "Good Morning," momentarily pulled him out of his reverie. She looked up at him, and he lost himself a little in her eyes.

"Morning. Feel any better?" He asked, running one of his hands through her hair.

"Hm hmm," she nodded, while her fingers doodled circles across his stomach. "I don't feel as weak, and I can move my arms and legs better again…" Her hand traveled up to cradle his cheek. "But you don't look too great…"

His eyes clouded over in pain, and even though he wanted to keep it all inside, the early light of dawn, these moments of absolute tranquility and lucidity, left no room for hedging. The emotional turmoil of the last few days bubbled up and out of him in spades.

"I'm sorry, Mac," he rasped, a tear trailing down his cheek, "I'm sorry I was too late. Look at what they did to you. If only I had been faster…"

"Hey, hey…" Mac scooted up closer to him. "Look at me, Harm." She cradled his face in her hands until he finally lifted his teary eyes to her face. "No guilt, alright? I'm okay, I'll be fine, and it's only because of you." He still didn't react, yet the tears seemed to stop flowing.

Going purely on instinct, she lifted herself up and kissed the tears off his cheek. "I'd be dead if it weren't for you, Harm," she mumbled between kisses, then looked deeply into his eyes again.

"Thank you," she whispered, and then she lowered her lips to his in a soft kiss. She kissed him once, twice, then meant to pull away. Yet he tasted so wonderful, and her whole being was tingling, and so she couldn't help it; she leaned in again, letting her tongue dart along his lips. His mouth opened to her and their tongues teased and met for a moment entirely too short, before he pulled away.

"Was that only a thank-you kiss?" He questioned, his voice dark and raspy and forbidden.

"Do you want it to be only a thank-you kiss?" She asked right back, and as soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she wondered why she was doing this. It was usually him that answered a question with a counter-question, and she hated it. Now she was doing the same thing. She so badly wanted there to be more, why didn't she just say so? Were they destined to circle around each other for the rest of their lives, always so close to having something special and yet never getting there, and only hurting each other in the process?

And then she gradually became aware that his head was moving. Almost imperceptibly at first, it turned from right, to left, to right. Her breath caught in her throat.

"No?" She interpreted his answer in a barely-there whisper.

"No," he stated firmly, then pulled her up closer to him, arranging her whole body atop of his. He wasn't planning on being another single day of his life without this woman. If anything good were to come out of this whole horror scenario, it should be that they would finally face what they had with the other.

He smiled at her, and her heart plummeted straight into her belly.

"Come here," he whispered, before he brought her head down to his and kissed her once more. Slowly, he parted her lips with his tongue, then ventured out to explore her mouth in long, measured, fervent strokes. Sparks flew when the tip of her tongue met his and she let her whole weight sink onto him while she fell into his kiss, heat racing through her in cresting waves. With every new foray they made, their kiss grew in passion, as years of hidden feelings and emotions were poured into the moment. She was greedy and lost, clinging to him while he made her head spin and everything else tingle.

They kissed for long moments, each reveling in how right it felt to finally be kissing the one person that mattered most. When at last they pulled apart, she snuggled her head against his neck, catching her breath.

"You sure things can work out between us?" She quietly asked after a while, fearful and worried and not quite knowing why she couldn't push all these thoughts away and simply allow herself to be happy. "I mean, we usually both wanna be on top…," she sighed heavily, "and I think I'm going to be messed up for a long while after all this…"

"Then I'll help you through it." He held her chin and tilted her face up so she'd look at him. "Just like you did when things fell apart in my life…" He kissed her softly. "We'll figure it out, I promise." That finally made her smile, and his heart skipped a beat when he could read so much love in her eyes. She knew he always kept his promises.

"As for this top position you alluded to…," he announced as if he was in court making a case, "I'm sure we can take equal turns, or write up a schedule." He winked at her. "I mean, look at you right now," he gestured to her body draped across his, "and I'm not complaining at all!"

She giggled, and suddenly anything and everything seemed possible. She realized that with the two of them, it wasn't necessarily all going to be smooth sailing – how ironic seeing as how she would finally have her sailor at her side. But it was going to be right.

She lifted herself up again and started trailing small kisses along his jaw and up to his ear. Then she nibbled at his earlobe until she felt his breathing speed up.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to have you lying on me then," she whispered seductively, and had to grin when he gulped heavily. Emotionally, she had been ready for this for a long time, but she was well aware that her body would need a little more time to heal.

She let her lips wander over his cheek toward his mouth. "When we get home…," she trailed off, then kissed him tenderly.

"When we get home…," he nodded back. They met once more in a longing kiss, before he tucked her head close to his neck and she wrapped her arms around his waist. He walked his fingers up and down her back until he felt her breathing evening out, and then he closed his eyes as well.

Entangled with each other, they slept again until the bright morning sunlight bathed their room in a warm and cheerful, yellowy-orange, hopeful glow, appropriately greeting the first day of the rest of their lives.

_THE END_


End file.
